Reminiscence
by MockingHallows
Summary: A short story written before Christmas of last year. This is about 2-3 decades after the second war was won.


_**Reminiscence**_

_Christmas looms near, and the Mellark family is attempting to get into the holiday mood. Takes place about 2-3 decades after the successful effort to reinstate the new governing system in Panem. Quick story written before Christmas last year. _

I stare directly at my reflection, easily visible on the dark window. The soft glow of the streetlight outside our house in the Victor's Village provides the only source of illumination for the darkened room, throwing my features into relief. Snow falls at a steady pace, and my breath soon turns the glass opaque. My eyes wrench from the duplicate, before I let my gaze fall onto the small amount of snow that has collected on the windowsill. My fingers trace along the base of the panes, before a light tugging on my shirt causes me to turn sharply. My attention lands upon Willow's lithe frame, and my tensed muscles soon relaxen.

What is it, little duck?" I inquire softly, crouching down and balancing on the balls of my feet so I can look at her directly. The corners of my mouth tug upwards into a slight smile.

"We're about to decorate the tree!" She replies, her quiet enthusiasm coaxing a chuckle out of me.

I raise to my full height, extending an arm down towards her. She places her palm into my own, before a muted creak of the floorboards causes my attention to divert upwards. Peeta's figure appears in the doorway leading to the den, his arms supporting Rye, distracted by an un-hooked bauble designated for the tree. Peeta's expression lightens at the sight of our daughter and I, his mouth curling into a familiar, gentle smile. He gives a subtle gesture with his head, beckoning for me and the girl to follow.

The flames within the fireplace cause the light and it's reflections to dance continuously, it's heated contents guarded by metal grate. The warmth of the pyre is comforting, and I can tell it relaxes Peeta as well. He sets the boy down onto a padded blanket beside the tree, handing him a small ornament, equipped with a fabric loop, to hang onto one of the lower branches. Willow reaches into the box as well, retrieving a modest adornment before promptly placing it above her brother. He watches her careful movements, before his light brows pulled together in concentration. I step back, standing beside Peeta and lacing my fingers with his. My head rests briefly on his shoulder, and we stand there for a few moments, the silence only broken by Rye's small grunts of effort. His face contorts in concentration as he tries to secure the loop over one of the bunches of needles. After a second try, he manages to complete the task, before turning to flash us a toothless grin. A giggle bubbles out of me as both Peeta and I clap. The boy extends his arms to be picked up once more, and Peeta obliges. He bends down deftly, Rye's arms intertwining around his neck before he straightens. Willow places a few more ornaments onto the tree, before pausing as she pulls out another.

"Is everything alright, Willow?" I ask, beginning to walk towards her.

When I'm a few feet from her, she turns around. She first looks up at me, and then to her hand. In her palm rests a golden pin, scratched and weathered by time.

A pin I haven't allowed myself to look at for the past decade.

My throat constricts at the sight of it, and I feel Peeta's arm slide behind my back and gently grasp my side. Without realizing, my own arm has extended towards it, and the girl tips it into my hand. Rye's normal babbling ceased as we gazed down at the pin in silence. My thumbs run over each detail. Each ridge, each minuscule scratch causes a new memory to flood into my mind. I draw in a sharp breath, my eyes clenching shut before my hand begins to shake.

I force my eyes open after a few moments, turning to look at Peeta. His features reflect my own grief. He releases a low sigh, before composing himself. I force myself to do the same. The children, however, stare uncomprehendingly back at us.

"I can put it on, Mommy." Willow says quietly.

I simply nod, tipping th pin back into her small hand. She bends down into the box, retrieving a short length of velvet ribbon. She loops the fabric through an opening in the pin, tying it into a sturdy knot. She crosses in front of us, standing on tiptoes as she places it onto the tree and steps back. The gold reflects the light of the pin, creating the illusion that the pin itself has erupted into flames. I stare at it, my teeth digging into my lower lip.

Willow presses her weight against my side, her head resting gently on my hip. I quickly brush away a tear that had begun to fall, before lowering my hand to caress her hair. Peeta has regained himself as well. Rye is dozing on his shoulder as he turns to meet my eyes. He whispers something to me.

"Real?"

I nod slightly, my soft smile returning.

"Real."


End file.
